


bad things with you

by ladylannisterxo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Hand Jobs, Language, Smut, Spanking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylannisterxo/pseuds/ladylannisterxo
Summary: You catch the eye of Hawkins resident asshole, Billy Hargrove, one night at a party. With summer coming to a close and college right around the corner, is it really a mistake to become another one of his conquests?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Reader, Billy Hargrove/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 125





	bad things with you

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on another account; original posting date: August 11, 2019

You hadn’t seen him since graduation. You honestly thought he had left this town in a cloud of dust as he sped off back to sunny California. But no. He’s _still here_. He’s standing across the room, swarmed by a flock of girls, all desperately wanting _one last good lay_ before college in the fall. And then, of course, there’s also the small-minded lackeys that followed him around in high school. They don’t say much in terms of conversation, only laugh and cheer _obnoxiously_ loud at whatever spews out of his mouth and maybe one or two of them eye one of the girls, hoping she’ll turn her attention away from _him_ and onto them. But they won’t. They never do.

He’s basically the same as you remember him. Sure, the summer sun has treated him nicely and he’s tanner and _that hair_ of his has much more volume. _Perm, perhaps?_ You scrunch your nose as you take it in and you find yourself admitting that you liked it more _before_ whatever it was he did to it. Aside from that, he’s the same. He has a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other and that all too familiar smirk has made a permanent home on his face. He laughs loudly and makes crude comments and each time he chugs more of his beer, it’s as if gravity decides to say _fuck you_ and what you would deem as _half_ dribbles down his chin, along the column of his neck, before dripping down the expanse of his bare torso because _naturally_ , no shirt. The temperature did reach a high of ninety-seven earlier in the day so maybe that’s why but, then again, he also didn’t wear a shirt to Tina’s Halloween Bash and that was in October. _Is it really any surprise that he’s full of himself?_

You pull your eyes away from the gaggle of idiots and search the room for your partner in crime. The one who said, _let’s go to this party, it’ll be fun!_ and then _ditched_ you thirty minutes in. That honestly should have been your cue to leave but you were nothing if not a good friend, and you knew Steve needed one. The original plan was to just _not go_ to the party but that was before Steve’s current girlfriend, Vicki Sanchez— _gross_ —decided to up and end their relationship for no reason other than the fact that she was bored. _Cunt_. Steve then proceeded to beg and plead for you to go to this _stupid_ party and you reluctantly agreed. You had strolled in together, not a care in the world, and then his eyes fell upon the she-devil herself who was already wrapped around Eric Walker and all the wind was knocked right out of him. _Again, what a fucking cunt_. That was the last you had seen of Steve. He had excused himself rather quickly, saying he needed a minute, and that was when you started drinking.

Now that you think about it, the party makes little sense. Tina had labeled it as a Graduation Bash and that _would_ have made sense, had she thrown this party _two months ago_ when everyone graduated; now, it was just _sad_. Your eyes flit around the room, taking in everyone from your senior class and you realize this isn’t a celebratory bash but more of a _one last hurrah before real life takes its toll_. You know you will never see some of these people again as they will trot off to college and never look back and then there are the others who already look dead on the inside as they know that once summer comes to a close, they’ll be forced to either work for their parents or a dead end job because they fucked around in high school and have no chance of escape from the clutches of this town. _Tragic_.

You down the rest of your drink and toss the empty red solo cup unceremoniously onto the counter. You glance out toward the backyard where Steve disappeared to earlier in the night and you spot him talking to _Darla_. You’re instantly intrigued because Darla is _definitely_ not Steve’s type; she’s a shy, mousy little thing that spent more time with her head down and nose in a book than anything else. But he’s laughing, leaning down to say something to her, and she’s blushing like _mad_ , toying with the ends of her hair, and it brings an immediate smile to your face. This is what he needs, not someone to make him feel _cool_ , but someone to make him _happy_ and while you don’t know much about little Darla, you do know she’s an absolute _sweetheart_ , and that makes your heart swell.

You turn your attention back to the party and immediately catch _his_ eye. His arm is casually draped around the shoulder of another girl and she’s chattering away at him but he’s not paying any attention to her; his attention is focused solely on _you_. And it makes you squirm. You’ve never been the subject of his lingering gaze; in fact, you’ve barely ever spoken to him. He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip and then whispers _something_ into the girl’s ear. He drops his arm from her shoulder and she is visibly _distraught_ over this new turn of events but again, he doesn’t _fucking_ care because all he’s looking at is you and _oh shit, he’s walking over here_.

His proximity is close, _too close_ , and you can smell the alcohol and cigarette smoke wafting off of him. He trails his eyes down your body, lingering slightly on your chest and then on the sliver of skin that exposed itself when your shirt rode up. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and leans in a bit closer, his mouth right by your ear, and you involuntarily shiver when his breath fans out across your skin.

“How come we’ve never spoken before?”

You shrug lightly, turning towards him, and your eyes settle on his lips first before flitting up to meet his eyes. He’s _mere_ centimeters away from you; so close, you could easily close the gap. Your breath hitches and a smirk pulls at his lips. You want to smack it right off his face but even with it firmly plastered there, you can’t deny it—he really is a beautiful man. He may be an asshole but you’re not _blind_.

“I don’t know,” you say, “I’m always at these parties. As are you.”

“You come alone?”

“I-”

“No, wait, I know. You came with Harrington. He _ditched_ you no sooner than you both showed up, leaving you alone, while he now,” he pauses, looking around the room, “talks to _that little thing_ out there.”

You follow his gaze out towards the backyard where Darla and Steve are still caught up in conversation. They’ve moved closer since you last checked in on them, none the wiser to the fact that Billy Hargrove had been hunting you like prey _all night_.

You flick your eyes back to his. “You’ve been watching me.”

“I have,” he admits, “and I’m surprised that Harrington chose _her_ over you.”

You snort a laugh. “Steve and I are only friends and her name is Darla. She’s sweet.”

“Yeah, well, Darla is an innocent little _virgin_ and completely not his type.”

“Why? Because she’s more your type?”

He smiles brightly at you, his tongue swiping along his teeth. You smirk at him and he’s suddenly closer than he was moments ago. His breath fans across your face and his nose is barely brushing against yours. You should pull back, you should most _definitely_ pull back but the thrill is so inviting and you haven’t felt a shot of adrenaline this powerful since you and Steve teamed up against a pack of _demodogs_ last year. It’s the chase, the fun little game of cat and mouse, that spurs you forward. You’re all too glad that you didn’t leave when you wanted to.

“I personally prefer women with a little more _experience_ ,” he whispers, “but I have taken a virgin a time or two.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “and I’m sure you treated them with _absolute_ respect.”

“I handle with care,” he teases and a burst of warmth shoots straight to your core. _Oh fuck_. “Are _you_ a virgin, princess?”

“Something tells me you already know the answer to that.”

“I had a feeling you weren’t,” he says, slowly wetting his lips again. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“No.”

If you weren’t so caught up in the moment, you would have erupted in a fit of giggles over the shocked look that instantly took over his face. _Billy Hargrove thinks he’s so smooth_ and admittedly, he is _but_ , where’s the fun in this game if you don’t get to tease him a little bit too?

“Why leave when there are plenty of empty rooms upstairs?”

His eyes darken at your words but a smile, once again, pulls at his lips. You know this could easily be misconstrued as a _mistake_ , one that could label you as another notch in his belt or give Steve a reason to rake you over the coals for it but in this moment, you don’t care. His smile is shockingly pure and it’s been awhile since you’ve been desired in such a way so really, what’s one night? _And_ , if the rumors are true, you know for certain that you will not leave this party unsatisfied.

“I’ll follow you, princess.”

You grab his hand and he laces his fingers with yours. You lead him up the stairs, occasionally glancing back to see if he’s completely regretting his decision, but his eyes are entirely focused on you and the _want_ that lingers in his irises has you bursting with excitement. You find an empty room near the top of the stairs and pull him into it, shutting and locking the door.

You stare awkwardly at each other for a brief moment and then his mouth is on yours and it’s hot and wet and _needy_. It’s all tongue and teeth and then he’s trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking fervently on your exposed collarbone. You moan softly, never thinking that Billy Hargrove’s mouth would feel so good on your skin but _fuck_ , you were so wrong. You rake your nails down his chest and swiftly unbuckle his belt. Undoing the button and zipper of his tight as hell jeans, you delve your hand into his pants and grasp onto his hardening cock.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses in your ear, “you don’t waste any time.”

“Neither do you.”

He chuckles, moving his lips to your jaw before capturing your lips with his again. You stroke his cock languidly, relishing in the grunts he emits into the kiss. He breaks away, breathing deeply, and resting his forehead against yours as you swipe your thumb across the slit, slathering the precum pooling there across his length.

He watches transfixed as you glide your hand across him and in a split second decision, he presses his thigh firmly between your legs and the denim of his jeans rubbing _deliciously_ against the lace of your panties under your skirt has your brain going fuzzy and you toss your head back, lightly smacking against the door.

“Careful,” he whispers, “that feel good, princess?”

You nod weakly, biting down sharply on your bottom lip as you roll your hips against him. His hands find your hips and he starts guiding you back and forth across him, pressing harder against you. Your grip on his cock tightens and he groans at the feeling.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you mewl, “ _please_ , Billy, please fuck me.”

He smirks as he pulls your hand off his length and removes his thigh from between your legs. You whimper at the loss of contact but he pulls your skirt down your legs and all but rips your shirt off over your head, leaving you in nothing but your lace bra and panties.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, pecking your lips again. “Go get comfortable, princess.”

You pad lightly over to the bed, dropping down onto your back, and spreading your legs wide for him. You trail your fingers down your stomach and slip them beneath the waistband of your panties, pressing gingerly against your clit. He watches with hooded eyes as he tears his leather jacket off and tosses it to the floor before toeing his boots off and sliding his jeans down his toned legs. _Commando_. _Not even surprising_. You bite your lip in anticipation as he saunters over to you and places himself between your open thighs.

His fingers ghost up your legs and you giggle softly at the sensation. He breaths a laugh as his trademark smirk falls upon his lips and then he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down the bed closer to him. You yelp in surprise but then his fingers are pulling your panties to the side and he’s sliding them through your slick folds; up to tease your clit and back down to prod at your entrance. A breathy moan falls from your lips and he leans over you, catching himself on his arm by your head. His lips ghost against yours and you pull him in for a deep kiss when he plunges two of his fingers deeply inside you.

He moves them in and out at a rather slow pace, scissoring lightly to stretch you out, preparing you for what’s to come. Your kiss has turned languid and sloppy and he moves from your lips, to your jaw, down to your neck to continue sucking at the spot on your collarbone. You know for certain that a tell all mark will be bruising your skin by morning.

He hovers over you once more and you rest your hands on his chest as your eyes search his. His fingers are continuing their torturously slow pace and you wonder, briefly, if this is some kind of joke. You had heard the rumors. Billy fucked fast and hard but this wasn’t like that, not at all. He gazes down at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe deeply with each thrust of his fingers; how your mouth falls open when he grazes against that sweet spot.

“Do you want me?” He asks and you nod. “Are you _ready_ for me?”

You open your mouth to respond but find the words catch in your throat. You so desperately want to say, _yes, fuck me hard_ but you don’t. Not because you don’t want to but because you find yourself admiring the man hovering above you. You can tell he senses your hesitation and his fingers still their ministrations inside you and he slowly pulls them out, resting that hand on your hip. He’s not looking at you in frustration, but there’s a calmness to his features, an understanding that sometimes, people change their minds. You search his eyes again and before you can stop yourself, your hand raises up to brush a curl out of his eyes. His eyes flutter shut at the contact and he looks so _vulnerable_ , a far cry from the Billy you have come to know over the past few months. He grips your hand in his, pulling it away from his face, and resting it back on the bed, _away from him_.

“I need you to say something, princess.”

You nod again and he arches one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows and you realize, _he wants words_. He needs you to say it, he needs to hear it. _Who knew Billy Hargrove could be more of a gentleman than these other assholes?_

“ _Yes_ ,” you breathe, “I want it.”

He presses one more kiss to your lips, soft and light, and then he’s pulling back and adjusting himself on his knees. He grabs one of your legs and hoists your ankle over his shoulder and you watch as he strokes his cock before lining up at your entrance. You feel the brush of his cock against you and you let out a soft whimper. He looks up at you and holds your gaze, one last final reassurance, and you nod again. _I want it_. He bites down on his lip and then he’s pushing inside you, inch by aching inch, and a long and loud moan falls from your lips. Once he’s fully sheathed inside you, he stills, gauging your reaction; the rapid rise and fall of your chest or the way you breathe through the burning stretch. You roll your hips tentatively against him and it pushes him deeper, a soft groan tumbling from the both of you.

“I’m good,” you whisper, “you can move.”

No sooner than he pulls out, he’s slamming back into you, and setting a brutal pace. His hips snap against your own and this is _exactly_ what you were expecting. He has a tight grip on the leg that is thrown over his shoulder and he’s using the other to push your other thigh down, spreading you wider to take him harder, faster, _deeper_. Your fingers are fisted in the sheets and you’ve thrown your head back as he pulls scream after scream from your chapped lips.

“ _Shit_ , yes,” you mewl, “right _there_ , don’t stop!”

He bites down on the leg by his mouth and the sensation has you moaning even louder, much to your surprise. His other hand slides underneath your knee as he leans forward, pushing both of your legs up further, practically bending you in half. His cock pummels your dripping cunt at an unrelenting speed and _oh fuck, he’s so deep_. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He grunts. “That feel good?”

The only answer you can provide is another loud moan as his cock slams against that sweet spot and you can feel the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. He rolls his hips against you, pushing himself deeper and _deeper_ and every single thrust has your toes curling and your back slowly arching off the bed because _fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming!_

“ _Fuck_ , yes, Billy!” You scream. “Yes, yes, _yes_ , oh my _GOD_!”

And then you’re cumming, fast and hard, and it runs you down like a freight train at full speed. You involuntarily begin to shake as it rips through you and you don’t register when he slips his cock from you and plunges three fingers into your orgasming cunt and brutally finger fucks you through your high. You feel like you’re floating, your vision has gone white, and the only feeling you have is the way his fingers feel pulling more and more and _more_ from you.

It’s not until you’ve practically gone limp against the bed that he pulls his fingers from you and grants you a slap to your inner thigh. You jump lightly at the sensation but you’re a bit too drained to care. Your eyes are shut and you can feel him moving up your body, caressing the skin of your hips, up to your breasts, before his mouth is right by your ear.

“You made such a _mess_ , princess,” he coos, “what a _filthy_ little thing you are.”

“Hmm?” You wonder and then you open your eyes, looking down at where he was, and the comforter of the bed is completely soaked. _Oh shit_. “I- I’ve never done that before.”

“You’re welcome,” he teases. _Cocky bastard_.

You grunt non-committedly and he rolls to laying next to you, one arm behind his head, as he subtly strokes his still hardened cock. _Oh_.

“Did you cum yet?”

“No.”

He doesn’t sound angry; it’s the complete opposite, he sounds _satisfied_. Or as satisfied as you can sound without actually cumming yourself. You turn your head to him and he’s staring up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought, and for the first time, you wonder immensely what is going on inside that head of his.

“How do you want me?”

He closes his eyes and exhales slowly through his nose. “Princess, I think you’ve had enough.”

 _It’s like whiplash with this guy!_ You can’t pin him down. One minute, he’s looking at you as if you’ve hung the fucking moon or some shit and the next, he’s cocky and arrogant and an absolute asshole, so much to where you want to pull your clothes back on and go the hell home. _Fuck him! Who cares if he gets to cum?!_ Admittedly, you do. You surprisingly care a lot. Not because he was able to pull an orgasm from you that you never thought you’d experience in _your life_ —although it is a pretty good reason—it’s more because he’s been _kind_ , aside from his asshole comments thrown in here and there.

“I’m a big girl,” you muse, “I can take it.”

“Princess-”

“ _I can take it_. How do you want me?”

He glances over at you, his eyes roaming down your body, and then he’s flipping you onto your stomach. He moves behind you and grips you sharply by your hips and pulls you to your knees. You go to push yourself up onto your hands, but he presses a firm hand onto your back, keeping your head effectively shoved down into the blankets. _Okay_.

He wastes no time in assessing rather or not you’re ready before he’s thrusting into you in one fluid motion. He immediately sets another brutal pace, hips snapping against yours while his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The mark on your collarbone won’t be the only mark he leaves on you, it seems. Slow and easy must not be a term in his sexual repertoire but you don’t care in the slightest because that familiar tightness is already forming in your stomach and _fuck, he’s gonna make me cum again_.

He brings a hand down sharply on your ass and the stinging sensation feels _incredible_. His grunts have turned animalistic and it spurs you forward, moan after wanton moan rushes past your lips. You’re an absolute mess beneath him, taking his cock unbelievably deep, as he rips scream after scream from you and you’re certain everyone in the goddamn house knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“ _Fuck_ , princess, are you gonna cum again?”

You can’t formulate a response, it’s as if you’ve forgotten how. You nod your head vigorously into the blankets, fingers twisting tightly into the bed sheets.

He barks a laugh, smacking your ass again for good measure. “Cock’s that good, isn’t it, princess?”

You want to throw an insult back at him but one, you can’t think of anything other than the way his cock hits your sweet spot over and over and _over_ again and two, _he’s right_. His cock is _that_ good, pummeling your cunt with such intensity, you can feel tears brimming your lashes.

Your toes begin to curl at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body and his grip on your hips tighten as he holds you firmly in place while he thrusts his cock harder and faster, eliciting every cry and scream he can pull from you.

“Come on, princess, cum for me,” he grits out, “give me one more.”

You screw your eyes shut as you clench tightly around him. He groans at the tightness and he snakes a hand down between your legs and rubs fierce and fast circles against your clit, his speed in tandem with his own rapid thrusts. An animalistic whine tears through your throat and then you’re spasming in his hold. He works you through your high, never slowing his pace, and as soon as you go limp beneath him again, he flips you onto your back, spreads your legs, and strokes his cock until he’s spilling across your stomach. You’re mesmerized by his orgasmic features; the way he throws his head back and the way his mouth opens in a silent moan as he fists his own cock, milking every single drop of his seed onto you.

He drops down beside you with a sigh and you both breathe deeply for a few minutes. It surprises you that it’s not awkward yet. You can recount many times you’ve done something similar to this and as soon as it was over, you both put your clothes back on and left. You reach over to the nightstand by the bed and grab the box of tissues so properly placed there and begin wiping yourself down. When you’re done, you toss the dirty tissues back onto the nightstand, promising you’ll toss them on the way out.

“So, how was that?” He asks breathlessly.

“I’ve already stroked your cock tonight,” you tease, “I’m not stroking your ego too.”

He laughs, a solid, genuine laugh. Putting both of his hands behind his head, he watches you curiously as you lay back down beside him and start to close your eyes. You can feel sleep overtaking you. You know you should get up and leave, find Steve and leave, but you can’t fight the overwhelming need to sleep for only a few minutes.

“I won’t be here when you wake up,” he whispers suddenly.

You snort a tired laugh. “And they say romance is dead.”

“I’m serious, princess.”

“I know. I know how this works. This,” you mumble, motioning a hand between the two of you, “is just one night. I knew that going into this. It’s fine, Billy.”

He’s silent for a moment and you think that’s the end of the conversation. You roll onto your side, facing him, and let sleep overtake you.

“You’re not like other girls, are you, princess?”

You don’t respond, knowing whatever you say won’t change the outcome of this evening.

When you do finally awake, which is surprisingly only thirty minutes later, you find that he was true to his word—Billy is gone—and aside from the still damp comforter and the discarded tissues on the nightstand, there isn’t really a sign that anything ever transpired in this room.

You don’t feel bad, that’s not the emotion you’re feeling. You’re not sad either, you knew he wouldn’t be here. So what are you feeling? Did you really think your tight pussy was suddenly going to reel him in and tame the beast within? No. You’re content, to say the least, the aching feeling between your legs reminds you that something did occur between the two of you and the marks on your body will be a reminder for days to come.

A smile is resting on your face as you pull your clothes back on. You toss the dirty tissues into the wastebasket by the door and just as you’re about to leave, you notice a small note. _He left a note?_ You hesitantly grab the slip of paper and unfold it.

 _Had fun_ , it says at the top and you roll your eyes but you find yourself smiling even more. _Perhaps we can do it again sometime?_ You raise your eyebrows in surprise because you definitely thought this would be a one and done, possibly never seeing him again as you were heading off to college in about a month’s time. Your eyes scan the two lines over and over before you notice it, scrawled at the very bottom, his phone number.

He’s leaving the option up to you. You know he could have any woman he wanted, including every single Hawkins mom if he really wanted to, so why does he want to see you again? Was it that eventful? Memorable? But then you remember the vulnerability you saw briefly before he took you and gave you the best sex of your life. He didn’t have this conversation with you before he left nor did he mention that he might want to possibly do it again. He put it in a note. This meant, or so you’re thinking, that if you didn’t call him, maybe it was because you didn’t find the note or _maybe_ you just weren’t interested and either way, it would mean nothing to him and he could go the rest of his life not caring because, to Billy Hargrove, it will forever be easier to never know the real reason than it would be to actually broach the conversation and face _rejection_.

You smile softly, folding the slip of paper and tucking it into the pocket of your skirt. You cast a glance over the room, taking it all in, before you slip out and leave the night behind. You made up your mind as soon as you saw his number at the bottom of the note; you would call him. Just not tonight. Not even tomorrow. You’d give it a few days because where’s the fun in this game if you don’t get to tease him a little bit too?


End file.
